


Last Chances

by tsukinofaerii



Category: Mavel 616
Genre: Gen, Implied Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-18
Updated: 2010-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/tsukinofaerii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony checks out while Steve is about to check back in. They meet somewhere in the middle, and Tony finally gets a chance to say what he needs to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Chances

Tony stumbled as he landed on the black marble floor, almost hitting his knees before he caught his balance. Overhead, starlight shined through where there should have been a ceiling, but it wasn't enough to see by. The whole room was dark, but it was a subjective sort of darkness—no lights, but he could see just fine. He could especially see the white-haired woman manning the receptionist's desk. "Where am I..?" The last thing he remembered had been Pepper and...

The woman looked up from her keyboard and smiled. It was a million-dollar smile, or at least the one the came with million-dollar deals. All muscles, no emotion. "Stark, Anthony Edward? Checking in?" Her voice was like her smile, bright without being in any way cheerful.

"That depends. What would I be checking in to?" Tony straightened his suit—and when had he put on a suit? He'd been in jeans and an old sweatshirt, not Armani.

"The only place there is after you check out." Keys tapped. "Take a seat—He'll see you soon."

"You might as well," a too-familiar voice said behind him. Tony thought his heart stopped, but it only took a moment to realize that it hadn't been beating to start with. He turned slowly, not really sure he wanted to know if the voice was real, or just another one in his head.

Steve's mouth curled in something almost like a smile. "It takes a while for superheroes."

Tony couldn't quite keep his legs steady, but he managed to save himself from looking completely like an idiot with a quick step backwards. "Checking in?"

"Checking out. My number wasn't quite as up as we all thought." He was in costume, looking like everything he hadn't on the coroner's table.

Alive being the main one of those things. "You're dead."

"So are you."

Tony ran a shaky hand over his face, curling his fingers in hair that was at least two inches longer than it had been minutes before. "I did it. I didn't think I'd— _I did it_." That bastard Osborn wouldn't get the database. There _wasn't_ a database any more. Even if they managed to cut open his skull before the brain degenerated, there'd be no way to retrieve the information without the Extremis as an interface.

For maybe the first time in his life, Tony had unequivocally _won_. No compromise, no collateral damage, no _almost_s to haunt him. He wouldn't even leave anyone behind; even _Pepper_ had to be sick of taking care of him. She'd been there when he'd lost his motor skills. Wiping up drool would strain even the best of friendships, and the rest of the world hated him.

He didn't even realize he was laughing until Steve sat up straighter in his chair. The sound cut off as he reeled in his self-control, holding on to it with an iron grip. "I'm— I'm okay." He grinned at Steve, feeling giddy. "Just— you know. I finally didn't screw up. It's a good feeling."

"Tony—" Steve swallowed, brows pinching together in confusion. "What the hell is happening back there?"

"Hell, Steve. Hell _is_ what's happening." This was his last chance, wasn't it? Steve was going back—God knew that if anyone deserved as second or third or trillionth chance it was him—and Tony wasn't. He'd gotten his second chances and had blown them. If the world was fair, he wouldn't get another one. Who knew, maybe he wouldn't even get to see Steve again after he "checked in". "You'll probably get the full story when you get back. It's a mess, and it's my fault." He waved a hand through the air aimlessly, trying to figure out how to explain.

Would Steve even remember any of this?

Probably not. Better to stick with the bare bones. Steve already looked confused enough, and it would take a lifetime to explain everything that he wanted. The receptionist was ignoring them, which Tony was grateful for. Saying what he needed to say—again—was going to be hard enough without an audience. "Before you go— or I go, or _whatever_ happens... It wasn't worth it. You should know that." He couldn't stop pacing—needed to move. After being trapped in his body, even being able to flick his fingers was a miracle. A result of dying, granted, but still a miracle. "I told you this before, but you were dead—we'll, you're still dead, but I told your body anyway. You should hear it. Before..."

"I'm listening." The tension slowly left Steve's shoulders as he sat back in his chair. His eyes were the same blue as his mail—how did Tony never notice that before? He'd taken too much for granted. That was another thing that dying was going to put a stop to.

"I believe in what I did. It was necessary." He held up a hand for silence when Steve opened his mouth—probably to explain about freedom versus liberty, but Tony had heard all those arguments before, and it was too late anyway. "That's not the point. The point is that I did what I thought I needed to do—I gave up our friendship, I got into bed with people we despised—I was an asshole. And I tried to explain, but you wouldn't listen and I _knew you wouldn't_ and—" In his mind's eye, he could see Steve's body laid out on the examination table, cold and more lifeless that it should ever be, just as it had the first time he'd confessed. Looking Steve in the eye while he said it wasn't that different, except now he knew that the worst was going to undo itself. "I was saving hundreds of lives, Steve. Civilian lives."

Steve half-rose from his chair, rage coloring his face red. "You were locking people up!"

"Which means I wasn't dissecting them! Which is exactly where it would have gone if I hadn't stepped in!" Anger was a cold, familiar friend that didn't want to be shoved away, but this was his _last chance_. Tony couldn't screw this one up. He met Steve's glare. "I was saving lives. And then you died. I couldn't save the _one_ life that made any damn difference. That's why it wasn't worth it. Because you died."

Without the sound of their breathing, the silence was absolute. Even the receptionist wasn't typing.

Slowly, Steve sat down. "What would you do, if you could do it over again? Would you support Registration?"

"If I could do it and not get you killed... Yeah."

For the first time since the SHRA came into play, Steve looked like he was actually listening. His grimace said he didn't like what he heard, but listening at all was a step forward. "Hundreds of lives?"

"Almost a thousand, this year alone, plus whatever superhumans were caught."

"I'm not worth a thousand lives."

Nervous energy drained, Tony turned and sank down into the chair on Steve's left side. It was cushy, upholstered in a soft material that Tony wouldn't have pictured in death's waiting room, but he hadn't ever thought death _had_ a waiting room. "That's one opinion."

"I—"

"Rogers, Steven?" The white-haired woman held up something in her hand. It shimmered, like someone had taken a chip off the aurora borealis. "Your spark is ready."

Steve glanced at him, and Tony could just _tell_ he was about to do something stupid, like ask for more time. Before he could get out a single word, Tony slapped him on the shoulder and grinned like his heart wasn't breaking.

"Get going. You've got people waiting, remember?"

After a long minute, Steve nodded and stood, an icon and a man all wrapped in blue. "I'll see you later, then."

There was heat behind his eyes, but Tony had cried himself out a long time ago. He could manage one last good-bye. "You're going to have a hell of a time fixing my mistakes."

That all-American boy scout smile came back for the first time in years. "That's what friends are for, isn't it?"


End file.
